


You're a Piece of Art, Sixer

by EvilAtrocities



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Stancest - Freeform, Technically not incest though if you follow the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilAtrocities/pseuds/EvilAtrocities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford has always been a weird child growing up, but at least he had his best friend Fiddleford to be there for him.<br/>Ford starts college and is excited that he's finally going to do something with his life, but he ends up meeting an odd man by the name of Stanley Pinington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  Ford's bouncing in his seat. First day. First class. First everything. He'd even bought a set of new pens to use to take down notes in lectures. Lord, he's so excited and Fiddleford grins back at him, finding it cute. "Take a chill pill, Ford, class hasn't even started yet."

  "I know, but I finally made it out of high school, Fids, you don't know how long I've been waiting to actually go somewhere." He stops in his bouncing as he can tell it's getting a little bit on his friend's nerves by now and picks up the pen, pushing the tip out, feeling a pair of eyes on him. He glances up and notices the man in front of him. His hair's pretty long, brown and thick, his eyes a deeper shade.

  His nose is a little crooked, just barely noticable, like he'd been punched hard enough when younger that it had broke and repositioned. Fiddleford's rambling about something and that's when Stanford realizes he's been staring at the stranger for quite a few minutes now.

  "Stanford?" Fiddleford says a little louder and Ford glances back at him. "Huh?"

  "Who were you looking at??"

  "That guy up front.." Ford glances back and his best friend traces his gaze.

  _"Ugh,"_ he scoffs in clear disgust and Ford arches his brows in slight concern. "What??"

  "That's Stanley Pinington."

  "Stanley _what??"_

_"Stanley Pinington."_

"That's the most ridiculous name I've ever heard." Ford snickers softly.

  "He's got even more of a ridiculous reputation to go along with it."

  The older male glances back in gentle confusion and yet - interest. "What do you know about him??"

  "Everyone says that he's lived on the streets for most of his life, that he won't be able to pay the college back whenever he graduates, and that he has no skills so there's no point in him even attending college."

  "I'm sure that's not true," Ford says softly, almost defensively for the male.

  Fiddleford hisses in disgust and Ford almost grows angry with his friend, but the professor has started speaking, so he shuts up. Meeting Stanley's eyes once more before he picks up his pen again.


	2. Chapter 2

  The next week of class is hard and boring, troublesome, but Ford is determined to keep his interest in science, to prove how smart he genuinely is. He studies with all his might and in and out of classes, he finds Stanley continuously staring at him. He's a little late for class Friday morning, Fiddleford had offered to make breakfast and he wasn't about to turn his best friend down, especially considering that they'd been losing time with each other lately. He can barely see above the stacks of books in his hands and is thankful the hallway's empty, that is until some idiot turns the corner too quickly without looking, and he hears the other slam against the floor with a soft "ow!"

  "O-oh geez." Ford sits the books to the side and crouches by the other. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to-"

  _Stanley._ His eyes are even deeper and more inviting, all seeing, this close up, and Ford nearly gets lost in them until he notices a deep bruise on the side of his cheek. There was no way his books could've done that. "..Are you okay??" Ford repeats, lowering his voice as if scared that the other male is suddenly going to leap to his feet and run away, like he's a precious creature that's shy and scared easily, though his mind tells him otherwise, and reminds him of how odd he's acting.

  "I'm fine."

  His voice is like music, but no - it's more than music, it's like strings, strings of music, melody, practically tugging at the center of his chest, his heart, and the noise lingers in his ears for so long, he nearly misses Stan's next statement.

  "..You okay, four-eyes?" A brow is arched almost playfully, mockingly and Ford giggles perhaps a little too loudly as he stands back up. "I'm - great."

  Stan snorts at him, and that second noise is even _more_ adorable, more soothing than just the sound of his voice. "Kay then, buddy.. ah, _shit,"_ the curse makes a small shiver go down Ford's spine, and - _what is **up** with him?? Who is this man? Why's he reacting this way?_

  Ford glances back to see a rolled up, now smashed poster in Stan's arms. "O-oh! Oh, I'm sorry!" The male apologizes, adjusting his crooked glasses, they always seem to move slightly to the left as the day goes on. "Uh- oh geez, there's not any real way to fix it, is there-"

  "It's fine, I was too scared to put it up anyway."

 _Too scared??_ Stanley's already walking away and Ford grabs the male by the shoulder, gently halting him in his tracks, "Wait a minute..!" Stan stares back at him with soft, patient eyes and the older man has to stop himself from flushing. "..What do you mean too scared? Is it.. something you made?" Fiddleford's words repeated in his mind about the other having no skills.

  Stan smiles nervously, and unrolls the poster. It's a painting. A watercolor painting, and it's - beautiful. The colors shimmer against the slightly smashed paper, and Ford doesn't even realize that it's - _himself._ The color comes to his cheeks now and he swallows rather loudly before managing to speak, stuttering however.

  "When..when did you do that? W-why did-"

  "You're - well - you're different.. like me. You don't fit in with the normal faces in a crowd.. it's kinda nice to see someone else who's different.. and you seem so - confident, and hardworking. You're someone who won't give up easily.. I kinda.. I guess I kinda respect that.. I've wanted to go into art since I was ten or so. A-anyway! The art students are supposed to - hang their art in the hall for..their grades but.."

  Ford's almost weak in the knees from all the praise, the compliments, the fact that this stranger, this - ridiculous, stranger had taken such an interest in him - was now telling him how great he was, when he didn't even know him. _"..But?"_ He finds himself asking.

  "..I didn't want to put it up and you get - mad at me.. I mean I - I didn't even ask you, I should have-" 

  "Put it up."

  "..Pardon?" Stan mumbled slowly, staring back up at the nerdy male in front of him, the first person he'd looked up to in a while.

  "Put it up.. I - I don't mind, and you have a lot of talent, you shouldn't let that go to waste."

  Pink stains Stanley's cheeks and Ford melts.

  "..But it's - crumpled I-"

  "Crumple the rest of it so it blends in." A six-fingered hand brushes Stan's shoulder once more, affectionately this time. His eyes widened. "Shit! I - I gotta go, I forgot about class!" He wheels around and scoops up his books before running past. Stanley watches until he's gone, sinking down slightly and hugging the painting to him.


	3. Chapter 3

  Stan's book is full of him. Notes he should've been taking from the very beginning of last week nowhere to be found. Only sketches of the man he found himself thinking about constantly. It was bothering him. Sure, Stanley had known since he was sixteen that he was gay - especially after he kissed his best friend, only to end up - ruining that friendship. He played it off like it was nothing now, that was a few years ago, but his heart still ached a little. But he'd never expected to honestly search for love after that first encounter.

  Sure everyone claimed that the first relationship never lasted and there could be so much more love from different people, but for Stanley, that person had always been Bill. His best friend with blonde locks, and gentle, freckled cheeks, hazel eyes, that just seemed to know him so well. But Bill was gone now. Stanley was focusing on his artwork..

  _Ford._

  Stan slammed his face into his sketchbook, groaning softly as his face flushed. Was this obsession? Just a silly little crush? Destiny? He snorted at the last thought, leaning back in his chair slightly.

  "You still drawing that nerd?" His roommate piped up and Stan nearly fell over. "I'll take that as a yes," Logan hummed, going over and pulling out a bag of chips, cramming them in his mouth. "Have you even talked to him?"

  "Y-eah, I met him in the hallway." He grunted quietly, picking up his pencil and going back to sketching, desperate to not seem too crazed for the male he barely knew.

  "What was he like?" His roommate grinned past the crumbs on his lips, and watched Stan flinch, before cackling. "Ah geez, Stan! Can't believe you're crushing on-"

  _"Shutupshutup!"_ He mumbled defensively, slamming his book shut and putting his face in his hands. He groaned slowly in further embarrassment.

  "You want me to talk to him for ya?? Set up a date? How 'bout the wedding-"

  "Quit teasing me..! _Ugh,_ hey, I'm going out, I've got my keys so make sure you lock the door!" Stan hissed, standing up and starting for the door.

  "Have a nice date-!" Logan flinched at the slam of the door before snorting once more.


End file.
